JACOB'S ROOM	267
one sort and another ; and the stir in the air is
the indescribable agitation of life.
But colour returns ; runs up the stalks of the
grass ; blows out into tulips and crocuses ; solidly
stripes the tree trunks ; and fills the gauze of the
air and the grasses and pools.
The Bank of England emerges ; and the
Monument with its bristling head of golden hair ;
the dray horses crossing London Bridge show
grey and strawberry and iron-coloured. There
is a whir of wings as the suburban trains rush
into- the terminus. And the light mounts over
the faces of all the tall blind houses, slides through
a chink and paints the lustrous bellying crimson
curtains ; the green wine-glasses; the coffee-cups ;
and the chairs standing askew.
Sunlight strikes in upon shaving-glasses ; and
gleaming brass cans ; upon all the jolly trappings
of the day ; the bright, inquisitive, armoured,
resplendent, summer's day, which has long since
vanquished chaos; which has dried the melancholy
mediaeval mists ; drained the swamp and stood
glass and stone upon it; and equipped our brains
and bodies with such an armoury of weapons
that merely to see the flash and thrust of limbs
engaged in the conduct of daily life is better than
the old pageant of armies drawn out in battle
array upon the plain.